simison

--- Glorianas were the greatest warships of the Imperium with the singular exception of the Emperor's flagship. A flagship that was now missing, leaving the twenty to argue for the vacancy. The public would never hear of that if either Malcador or Alexandros would have any control over it. As far as the masses would know, the Glorianas would serve as they always had: indomitable symbols of the Primarchs and the Imperium. Hopefully, not in that order. A single Gloriana was a strategic asset of incredible value, able to provide a decisive advantage. They were not designed to serve as simple messenger shuttles. Yet, these were not simple times. Therefore, when the Obsidian Guard arrived at the edge of the Sol system with the core of its strength centered around Lord Keath's Gloriana flagship, Herald of Judgement, Malcador and Alexandros set out to meet them aboard Alexandros' own Gloriana, the Elpis. The presence of these two titans of the void would be seen by the greater Imperium, and word would spread. The Imperium may be dealing with a crisis like no other, but its strength was not gone. At Alexandros' insistence, the meeting of the three would happen aboard the Herald of Judgement. Malcador had suggested the Elpis in order to emphasize that the situation was under control with Lukas acting more as a reporting officer instead of the possible impression of hidden panic of Malcador and Alexandros traveling to Lukas. Alexandros' counter-argument that meeting aboard the Judgement would save precious time for Lukas to be updated on the situation and to redeploy his forces as needed, while Alexandros and Malcador would endure the cost in travel time and image. Lukas, unsurprisingly, had agreed with Alexandros' assessment. The trade-off both Primarchs had made toward Malcador would that the meeting between the three of them would take place within Lukas' private quarters. Malcador would not allow the slip-up of any unauthorized information.

Antipaton, Legate off the Third Cohort, asked the next logical question as his gray eyes focused on the other Imperial symbols across the galaxy. Seventeen specific sigils. "What of the other legions?" "Terra has received word from most of them, and the same story repeats itself. Everyone's lost ships and Astartes during the Vanishing, but most of them were on campaign, preventing any crippling losses. Most of my brothers are accounted for with a few exceptions. Lukas is already on his way to Terra, but we don't have confirmation of the whereabouts of Ezharion, Aato, Azus... and Absalom." "If we're lucky, the Warp will have consumed him." Alexandros threw a warning glance at Chukhay, Legate of the Sixth Cohort, who hadn't whispered that low enough, but moved the meeting onward. "Contact will need to be re-established as swiftly as possible, but I have faith that they will be found in good time. Once we've a proper estimate of the reaper's tally, Malcador intends to summon the War Council to discuss and decide the Imperium's response to this calamity." "The War Council hasn't assembled in its entirety for two centuries," Chukhay, a bald native of Balov, observed. "It will take some time. And it will be... contentious." "Not the entire War Council," Alexandros assured. "Simply the higher echelons. Though, yes, that many strong personalities are likely to cause... friction. We will need to be prepared to do all we can to smooth things over as the Imperium recovers. Our goal is straightforward. We need to oversee and ensure the Imperium's continuation, until the Emperor can be found. At which point, we will need only to revert back to custom." Irvin stared at the holographic of the broken galaxy. "My lord, you know of my loyalty. I was born on Terra and swore to the Emperor's cause with the first recruits of the Fifth. Know that it is not out of insubordination that I ask, what if we don't find the Emperor?" "...we will cross that bridge when we must."

Renovatio, 838 Crassus gritted his teeth. "We are more than pieces of hardware." VonSalim quirked an eyebrow. Crassus blinked. Darshan asked, "Are you?" The winds of Afric blew around them, catching their respective capes in gentle embrace. Crassus' resolve shook as he stood, once again, at Three Flags. His blue eyes flashed to the East where he could see the shield towers protecting his past enemies from airstrikes. Crassus remembered too-late the other side of his Primarch. A mind-witch of terrifying strength and skill. As he turned his head, Crassus caught something in the corner of his eye. Behind him was the Albyon Slayer, the first tank he had driven. The tank he would soon ride into the upcoming battle. Alarmed fury filled him as he noted its state. The pintle-mounted volkite caliver fizzled with damage as it dangled off the turret. One of the treads had come loose. Corrosion wrapped around the cannon's barrel. Never would Crassus allow his steed to fall into such deplorable condition. "Well, Prefect?" Darshan asked as he stepped up to the vehicle of war. "Would you go to war in this?" "Of course not!" Crassus spat back, indignant anger rocking his voice. Only to realize a moment later he had completely walked into a trap. Darshan knocked his knuckles against the tank. "So, if you wouldn't take this into war, why would you try to persuade me to allow you?" "Can you not see me, my lord?" Crassus argued as he gestured to himself. "I am a keen edge, ready to do battle. I'm in the training rooms daily, waiting for the day I can rejoin my brothers on the front line. What more do you want of me?" "To stop being blind," Darshan countered. "You think nothing but the body when it is your mind that is breaking. This tank," he emphasized with a wave of a hand, "is your mind. You have blindly trusted in the psycho-conditioning to prevent the damage that is now infecting you. This is what I see every time you ask to be deployed." Before he could stop himself, Crassus said with not a light touch of sarcasm, "You told me that spending time in the sanctum would improve this." "It would if you actually used it instead of stewing in your own self-righteous misery," Darshan declared, his voice hard. "Worse, you inflict your petty attitude upon your brothers with this paltry refuge of a sanctum, abandoning your responsibilities as a leader, one of my four Brigadiers no less. You shame yourself with this puerility and you shame me as both your commanding officer and as a father." Again, the worst part of facing a telepath is that they knew every thought, which meant Crassus had no chance at hiding the vindictive spark of satisfaction at frustrating VonSalim. This time, however, Crassus felt shame. It wriggled around the vindictiveness as Crassus did his best to ignore both of them. Although he reined the unwanted emotions in, he did not offer a retort. It was then he realized something. "What is your purpose of this meeting, my lord?" "Lord Araphel and I have agreed on a tactical plan to cripple the Scaran threat and prevent a campaign of attrition that will waste years in this system. However, it all hinges upon a decapitation strike against the Scaran queen. Even with Araphel and I personally involved with this attack, it is an extremely risky gamble that will see a horrific blood price. You will be the sole Brigadier to be deployed to my side." The thrill of war shouted within Crassus' being, but his mind was already shifting with suspicion. "Given our conversation, I would not imagine you would reward me, my lord." "Make no mistake, this is no reward," Darshan affirmed as he stared down at his officer. "You will unleash your rage at the enemy, and it will serve a purpose. However, in half of the futures I have foreseen, you are slain in this upcoming battle. In a third of the other futures, you are maimed, interred within a dreadnought, to be forever denied the exhilaration of commanding your beloved Praefectus and riding into war. Only in that final sliver of possibility do you emerge from the battle whole."

Martius, 837 The sound melody of waves washing upon the beach both soothed the giant and evoked childhood memories of more innocent times. So long as he kept his gaze on the beach, Alexandros could relive the watery games he had played with the other boys in town. A moment of reverie between destruction. The moment broke as past command combined with future duty. Alexandros opened viridian eyes as his ears caught the approach of military boots. Powered and unpowered. He turned away from the beach, eyes glancing at the broken port which occupied the rest of this island. Despite their name, space marines had an odd relationship with naval combat. Overlap certainly, but not quite a true mastery of this ancient battlefield. But victory was victory. The true focus of his attention came into view as a military delegation rounded the corner of a toppled warship. Three of his sons led five mortals toward the Primarch. The gold-trimmed shields served as badges of office as opposed to war gear at this moment. Ruel had not relented in his campaign to establish a proper bodyguard for the Lord of the Fifth, despite Alexandros' considerable advantages. They were a source of amusement to him. These three warriors formed a triangle around the mortals. Only one of them wore armor, a pristine set of carapace armor in camouflage. Alexandros had little doubt it would see use soon enough. Yet, it was the mortal at the front of the delegation who demanded Alexandros' address. He wore an immaculate black dress uniform with golden epaulets. He was old, easily in retirement age in some cultures as lines criss crossed his face. It was a less than ideal situation, but Delos had not seen true war since Alexandros had driven off the xenos years ago. Suhag was the best the planet offered, discounting Alexandros. The delegation came to a halt before saluting. "My lord," the lead Warden stated. "I present Manoj Suhag, Grand Commandant of the First Scion Army."

Sol, 836 The guilt amused him. That did not lessen guilt’s sting, but it created an odd combination of emotions that Alexandros wasn't used to. His hair had grown back, and the burn 'scars' had faded. In another month, none would be able to see any wound had been inflicted against the Lord of the Fifth. That too had been another calculation. He had allowed the budding Delian rebellion to take its shot against him. Had thrown himself between the bomb and the audience. And now was mostly healed after a few weeks. In one move, Alexandros had ended the rebellion before it could truly gain momentum. He was still embarrassed he had to say good-bye to his mom with a third of his face a different color. Her lined, worried eyes wouldn’t stop glancing at the new skin. He put on a reassuring smile, even as he knew it would do little to appease her. Instead, he opened his arms. He could feel the inaudible huff of mixed frustration, surrender, and love before she embraced him. Her arms wrapped tight around as much of his torso as she could stretch. He could have wrapped his arms around her twice. Instead, he used the same hug he had use since he was a boy. His hands criss crossed at the center of her back, while his arms drooped to the side. He enjoyed her presence as she whispered, “Be safe, my son.” She pecked him on the cheek before releasing her tight hold. He returned the gesture on her forehead. “Always, Mom.” She reluctantly stepped back with a last, “Write often.” "I will," Alexandros reassured her before turning his attention to the man stepping past Cassandra. Demetrius had more gray streaks in his dark beard. An unbidden thought within the Primarch wondered how many more good-byes the Great Crusade would allow them. Demetrius laid a hand on Alexandros' shoulder. It was a subconscious habit that had started when Alexandros had outgrown the man's height. A small way a father kept his dignity before his giant son. "We love you, son. As you return to the stars, remember the most important lesson." "The greatest man is the one who lifts others," Alexandros intoned with a fond smile. Demetrius nodded with his own matching smile. "Just so." Only now did he briefly embrace his son before joining his wife. After them was a small parade of good-byes to half-siblings and relatives. Tomorrow, Alexandros would be locked into a ceremonial departure as the Halcyon Wardens deployed to the Great Crusade. Tonight, in his private quarters, Alexandros said farewell to his little family, the ones who mattered. One last woman held out her hand to him, palm down. She was the most controversial member of Alexandros' mortal family. But promises, even if derailed, had to be respected. She had midnight curly hair as she smiled up at him. Brown eyes glowed with mischief and warmth. "Must you insist upon this tradition?" "Ah, you wound me, my lady Myrsine," Alexandros said as he placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Although our paths had to part ways, did we not share something special?" She rolled her eyes at his declaration but noticeably brightened as he gently kissed the back of her hand. It was a game they had played since their engagement had ended. "That would be Senator Myrsine to you, Prime Minister." "I'm afraid I must decline," Alexandros ruefully replied. "I know too many senators." With a sigh, she admonished, "Stay alive, Alex. Your death would cause no small headache in the Senate." "I live to serve, my dear."

Abidius, 836 "My lord, can at least the Fifth Legion prosecute the Great Crusade? We can easily arrange for our most advanced cruiser to offer both speed and protection for this private matter." Alexandros couldn't help but notice that Irvin hadn't used the new legion title. At the same time, the former Storm Rider hadn't subconsciously used the old legion name. Progress, Alexandros noted to himself as he delicately snipped off an unhealthy branch from the Balovian Imle. It was one of five trophies he would be taking from his first protectorate. It was by far the most temperamental trophy, even within the precise artificial environment of the Primarch's personal quarters. "Irvin," Alexandros began as he switched tools. "You know how I value the symbolic as much as I do the practical." "I do," the former Legion Master admitted. Even with Alexandros crouched over in his hobby, the two were almost eye-level. "But we've been involved in non-combat duty for near two years now. I understand your intentions, but I must insist the Emperor will not appreciate any additional delay." Alexandros waved a casual hand. "I'm not asking for another year off, even if the Great Crusade can withstand it. No, I understand that duty calls, but it must wait for one duty prior." With a satisfied nod, Alexandros finished his effort on the Imle. "I am a warlord in both senses of the term. It has been almost seven years since I've fulfilled my duties as prime minister, and the Wardens do not yet think of Delos as their new home. Now that they match my vision of what a legion ought to be, it is time I properly introduced them to their wards, their people." He rose to his full stature, forcing Irvin to look up to him. A calculated message, but one the lord commander was unlikely to realize. One day, he would. "Besides, I have an assassination attempt I must endure."

835 "Humanity craves symbols," The red-haired giant declared with a sweep of his arm. "For they are the physical manifestation of what separates us from the animal: thought. We use symbols for the mundane, the sacred, and the personal. All three purposes are aligned today," Alexandros, Lord of the Halcyon Wardens, declared to the three legionaries before him. Three more stood behind him, across the table. Directly behind the Primarch was Irvin Ruel, Lord Commander and second-in-command of the legion. The bald Terran veteran was, as always, the image of discipline and bearing, unwavering in his stance. To Ruel's right was the scarred Praetor Niemann, Chief of the Destroyers. Niemann did not try to match his superior's precision as he watched the proceedings with mild amusement. To Ruel's left was Theodor Vonsmith, High Forge Lord of the Fifth Legion. The man was one-third machine in appearance and cold detachment in demeanor. Each man had been hand selected by Alexandros as the scene was broadcasted to the reformed Fifth and to the entirety of Balov. The newest protectorate had played an important role as participant and witness as the Storm Riders of the Unification Wars transformed into the Halcyon Wardens of their gene-sire's vision. Alexandros reached for the central of three items lined on the table, sitting comfortably above red velvet. The giant hands slid around the perfect circle before gently lifting it up from its place. Alexandros moved with deliberate and solemn purpose as he addressed the legionary in front of him. Third Lieutenant, in the old rank nomenclature, Vonsaza stood rigid, unused to the pomp and attention of the masses. That did not stop Darshan from sensing the fierce pride burning within the man's soul. He had possessed the two qualities Alexandros had sought throughout his entire legion: the most lives saved and a receptive heart. Alexandros held the shield between them. "With this, I formally create the Order of the Shield."

834 And so it went, the living wall of Warden shields deflecting danger as the breachers advanced down the hallway, whittling away at the mob with precise shots. They were less than thirty metres from the hallway's exit when the last Ork succumbed to its wounds. Not a moment passed before a new danger arrived. Ten Orks filled the mouth of the hallway in a well-rehearsed drill. Every one of them had a rocket pack strapped to their back. The big Ork commanding them bellowed, "Take aim!" All of them bowed forward, the rocket packs aimed at Alexandros' line. Next to Alexandros, scarred Jorg muttered. "Are they serious?" Alexandros answered, "Without a doubt." "FIRE!" As one, the Orks ignited their packs. With only seconds before impact, Darshan identified two who'd end up crashing into the walls and killing themselves, removing any threat they might have posed. To the three breachers in front of him, Darshan sent a single telepathic command. Cease fire. Alexandros leaped over their heads. With four seconds to impact, he squeezed the trigger on his plasma blaster twice. The two plasma missiles melted two others as one of them crashed into a wall. Alexandros landed in front of his sons before bracing himself behind his shield. Volkites burned down another. Then impact. Blood exploded and bone shattered as several of the brutes crashed into hapless breachers, killing marines and Orks both. Alexandros' arm shook as one then a second Ork dashed themselves against his shield, forcing him back a couple of centimetres. To the surprise of many, the nob slammed into the primarch and remained there. Its' rockets still firing, it pushed against Alexandros' strength. It peered over the shield's edge and screamed "WAAAAAGH!" into Alexandros' face. Alexandros grimaced. "If I ever fail to exterminate your species, I will introduce the concept of dental hygiene to you lot," he promised before shoving the muzzle of his plasma blaster against its forehead.

833 The Elpis’ hangar rumbled with the usual cacophony. It had seen little use in the previous battle, which was more of a large skirmish instead of a true battle worthy of a legion. The totality of the victory had provided some celebration, but Darshan could sense a hunger underlying the Fifth Legion. They wanted a battle, a war that would truly test them and reveal their power to their new master. He did not fault them too much for the hunger. It was natural for sons to want to impress their recently-returned father. A similar desire glowed within him as he walked side-by-side with the Emperor. His personal transport stood ready to return him to the Bucephalus. From there, the Emperor would venture to the galactic south. Another brother was waiting to be found. Alexandros rejoiced in that, but he pitied Theoderaf and Caelum. While they had taken the Emperor's attention away from Alexandros' tutorship for over a year, he had not wished the same fate to fall upon them. Even if Theoderaf and Alexandros had not parted on the best of terms. Beyond the forcefield, IG-88, which was in need of a new name, rotated in its place in space. It would forever be marked as Alexandros' first victory, however small it was. "Do you approve?" "It is a promising start, my son." Which was not the same as approval. A pang of shame sounded within Alexandros, but he let it spread no further. Wiping out the monster who had raided his planet for several centuries had been satisfying. His next battle, however, would have to be worthy of the Imperium's satisfaction. "I've selected the next campaign." "Saxonia?" Alexandros smiled as the entourage reached the golden transport. "You see." The Emperor nodded. "Your legion will be tested." Now Alexandros sensed approval. "They will not be found wanting." The Emperor laid a hand on Alexandros' shoulder. With an affectionate squeeze, the Emperor withdrew. "No, you will not."

832 Alexandros and Malcador, along with a small delegation, stood at the edge of the landing pad as the Emperor and his entourage approached. The Emperor's appearance anywhere could mark an occasion, but this day would be a day of special celebration throughout Terra. One step behind, two other giants followed the Emperor of Mankind at his left and right. The giant on the Emperor's right wore a red-and-white robe as he surveyed the welcoming delegation. His hair was long, a tide that spilled over the front of his armor, but a tide that carefully avoided a golden double-eagle embroidered across his chest. His most fascinating feature was his eyes. They were blood-red with a faint shine. Alexandros couldn't wait to get to know him and the other as he flashed a welcoming grin at them. The midnight-haired brother offered an uncertain smile.

831 "You're leaving?" Darshan slipped from the future back into the present. He sat across from the Emperor in a bare chamber which had served as their private grounds whenever the Emperor delved into the empyrean mysteries with Alexandros. The Emperor sat in his golden robes. They weren't really golden, but Alexandros had quickly learned the Emperor was never not wielding the power of the Warp for any number of tasks, both great and small. Truth be told, Alexandros had trouble discerning how much of the energy was being wielded and how much was part of the Emperor's essence. The implications of that mystery alternated between amusing and disturbing Alexandros. "Seek, and the answer will come to you." A factual statement, but Alexandros maintained his gaze on the present form of the Emperor. "That would take me beyond a year." "You blind yourself to your own detriment." The rebuke warmed Alexandros. It was moments like these when Alexandros felt like a son, and the Emperor a father. He treasured them as they rehashed the ongoing argument. "The possibilities are nigh infinite by then and subject to the whims of a butterfly." "An oversimplification. You possess the capability to comprehend such a range of realities." "Only to double that fantastical number by adding a single second. I waste more time trying to navigate such a temporal distance than simply shaping it by acting in the now." The Emperor opened his eyes as he stared down his son. Alexandros met the gaze with a small smile. It was an old argument, and he had not yielded the point despite all of the Emperor's instruction to the contrary. The Emperor relented, or indulged, and said, "It is time to recover another of your brothers. While I am gone, Malcador will continue your instruction." Alexandros' small smile grew wide. This was another reason he did not like to peer too far beyond. His family was growing; what a happy surprise!

830 Alexandros gasped for breath as sweat dribbled down his aching body. The pain’s bite was countered by the sheer novelty of it. Never before had his physical limits buckled beneath challenge. A pained grin spread a his face. Blood trailed around it as it poured from his nose. He spun the spear around his hand before he shifted back into his stance. A shield provided his only protection as he brandished it. A pillar of fire erupted before him. It unwillingly adhered to the borders of the sword it blazed from. From the other side of the pyre did the Emperor watch. A splat of blood colored the Emperor’s brow, but no sweat marred his form. "Again.” Alexandros laughed as he charged.

The Ruins were cataclysmic events which would sunder the Imperium between the forces of rebellion and corruption. The First Ruin is the smallest of the five, but its existence is necessary to enable the other four. Axioms long held in the hearts and minds of the Imperial citizen, both elite and common, would be shattered by the First Ruin. What will follow is our development of both the Ruin itself and the book that will bind its story within. The First Ruin can be summed up in a single sentence: Araphel, Primarch of the First Legion, is tricked by deception and paranoia to order the complete annihilation of the Sixth Legion and its master, the Ash-Blooded. One sentence, however, can not possibly contain the full account of disaster and death which will follow that one simple decision. Yet, it is this one decision that will begin anew a thousand tales even as it ends a thousand stories. What follows is but a fraction of the individuals and units who will act and react to the course of events which would eventually blossom into four more nightmares. Come and see.

The Fourth Chapter Although Araphel required each of his chapters to be able to fight against any foe, it did not prevent these 10,000 marine units from adopting a certain strategic preference. Due in no small part to Ikarion, the first chapter master to ever command, the Fourth Chapter developed a predilection for orbital assaults. This initial foundation would be honoured and strengthened by Ikarion's successors to the point the Fourth became synonymous with its chosen specialty by the time of the First Ruin. As such, its unit roster favoured assault marine squads over and above tactical and breacher squads. To compensate for the lack of mobility for the latter squads, the Fourth Chapter mandated every unit not equipped with jump packs must possess a designated drop pod, and Fourth Chapter ships possessed more battle barges than their sister-Chapters as a result. The Fourth boasted over-strength supplies of terminator suits, jetbikes, land speeders, and thunderhawks but eschewed artillery pieces, land raiders, and even super-heavy tanks. Instead, heavy support relied on a combination of a strong air support wing and drop podding heavy support infantry. This prevented the necessary speed the Fourth Chapter required, but if an enemy could successfully weather the initial assault and possessed sufficient anti-infantry weapons, the situation could shift hard against the Iron Revenants. On the eve before the Breaking, not one Revenant had expected combat the next day, let alone against their trusted cousins. Thus, Arlo and his command staff went unperturbed the Fourth operated at less than full strength. Casualties in the Duboko Suppression had left the Fourth Chapter standing at 8,587 legionaries, divided haphazardly between nineteen battalions. (One unlucky battalion had been wiped out.) When the Araphel's order came to attack and then assault Keld'abe, there was a rush to reinforce the Fourth with additional units before launch. This would provide a strain.

Ka Bevync’lyv, Second Lieutenant of the Eighth Akaan'adiike of Keld'abe Regiment For most aspirants, failure to pass the initial trials to becoming an Astartes leaves a few paths to choose from. Those who will not be deterred from serving among the ranks of their desired Legion, becoming a Legion serf is an honorable way to serve directly under the command of those they sought, even if their body was broken during the trials. A few young men might see the trials as a wake-up call and simply choose to return to their families and civilian life. But for the last path of those who will not be denied the call of battle, the Imperial Army has a number of regiments who often serve with the Astartes. It was not unheard of for Astartes commanders, even the fabled Primarchs, to repeatedly 'borrow' certain regiments which had met their high expectations. The Akaan'adiike regiments were a number of units that technically fell under the purview of the Imperial Army, but recruited only from failed Shadow Warrior aspirants who had survived the trials intact enough for combat duty. Since they had hailed from the same lineage, the Shadow Warriors treated the Akaan'adiike regiments as their own forces and kin. When the Ash-Blooded recalled most of his forces in view of the succession crisis, the Akaan'adiike regiments also made the journey home. Second Lieutenant Ka Bevync’lyv was an unusual case for a Akaan'adiike officer. The trials had taken an arm from him, but his fiery spirit refused to let his disability to hold him back from joining the regiments. The same Astartes training sergeant who had seen Ka's failure saw enough potential in him to approve the young man for a bionic replacement only to be retained if he could pass the regiment induction program. Ka did, and used that same spirit to rise through the ranks.